


metaextrusive

by whose baby is this (CarnivorousMoogle)



Series: Requests and Drabble Collections [7]
Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Drabble Compilation, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Trans Characters, drabble requests, figured i should have a fic for all the oc stuff i write in this fandom, nonbinary characters - Freeform, note: most characters who appear in this will likely not be mine, ranging from fluff to angst you're welcome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarnivorousMoogle/pseuds/whose%20baby%20is%20this
Summary: from the earth, something new.





	1. what stars look like (andromeda and dictatious)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a compilation of drabbles of mine involving OCs, whether mine or others'. Ships abound, there's fluff and angst in equal measure, and most of these are likely to be rushed and unedited. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt ‘young andromeda (who belongs to zonbiconbi) and dictatious interacting, mother gothel-style,’ from discord.

“Uncle, I know what stars look like.”

Dictatious pauses mid-lecture, unsure if he has heard correctly. “Do you?”

“Yes.” Andromeda rocks back and forth on the stone shelf, their longer pair of hands hooked under their feet. They’re a shy, quiet child, but he can see that they’re practically vibrating with excitement, their eyes bright and their cheeks dimpling with the grin they can’t quite hold in. “Alkind sent me–photographs? That’s what he called them.”

“Don’t touch your feet,” Dictatious reminds out of habit, still a little off-balance, “goodness knows where they’ve been.”

Andromeda does as he says, unbothered. “They’re so pretty, Uncle.” Their voice is quiet and shining. “There’s so many.”

He doesn’t answer for a moment. It’s not until their smile begins to fade that the words come unstuck from his throat. “I remember, yes. It’s been a very long time since I saw them last, child.”

Andromeda stares at him. It’s their turn to be silent for a little too long, as if they’re gauging his reaction. “Do you want to look at them?”

The interrupted lecture is put out of his head entirely. He stares at them, lost for words. He knows what photographs are; the goblins return with them every now and then, intel sent back by impures. Pictures of the stars, though, never. Unimportant to the Janus Order. Frivolous.

Four centuries, he thinks. Four centuries since he saw them last.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” he says airily, folding his four hands behind his back as if his chest doesn’t feel a little strange. “As long as they don’t prove to be a distraction from your lessons.”

Andy beams.


	2. think about it (quil/faith)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompts ‘quil (who belongs to adaylitdream) being a dumbass lesbian and flirting with the wrong person,’ and ‘quil running into a wall’ on discord:

“Think about it,” Quil rasps, eyes glowing like saltlights under the flickering street lamp as she balances her way across the brick fence between apartment buildings. Her dirty, ragged clothes don’t do much to conceal her odd drunken-looking gait, or the way her teeth are bared a bit too far and too wide with her smile, or that she’s clearly in need of a shower. “We can just wander awhile. No need to go back to your place or mine.”

The fact that Annabelle is considering it is going to leave her with plenty more to consider later, but later it’ll be. “You’re not taking me on a date in an alley.”

The grin stretches wider until gums are showing. “Who says it has to be a date?” she says, and walks facefirst into the side of the next building.


	3. purr (draal/varia)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt 'draal, varia, and purrs,' by zonbiconbi (who is her owner).

“You purr,” she says softly, petting his nose.

His eyes open and they are so slow and tired it breaks her heart a little, again. His voice is low and roughened when he speaks. “…What?”

She strokes his nose, listens to the sound resonating through his chest and jaw. Rusty, uneven. Strong still.

She rests her forehead against her knuckles, feeling him breathe through the back of her hand. In, out, there and deep. “You still purr.”


	4. slipping (strickler/kazimir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt 'strickler/kaz,' from trollmarket-dog (his owner).

Strickler is a choice.

Kazimir tells himself this. Strickler is a choice; he is his choice. He does what and goes where he wants, and who he wants is this uptight man with his smooth voice and his ridiculous hair and his vulnerability in the night when he says, I still hear them laughing sometimes.

He tells himself this.

He feels the knife slipping from his hand, and all he can do is pretend his sweaty, shaking fingers guide the blade instead of gripping tight in whatever direction it will go.

Kazimir does not expect this to last. But he can, maybe, manage a little longer.


End file.
